


Once Upon a Dream

by VTsuion



Series: Tales of Baker Street [7]
Category: Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Genre: Dancing, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Romance, Short & Sweet, Slow Dancing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-16
Updated: 2020-05-16
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:35:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24218986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VTsuion/pseuds/VTsuion
Summary: After spending the evening watching Watson dance with a dozen some young ladies, when they return to Baker Street Holmes decides it's his turn.
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Series: Tales of Baker Street [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2148099
Comments: 18
Kudos: 94





	Once Upon a Dream

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [Это было как во сне](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24250849) by [Little_Unicorn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Little_Unicorn/pseuds/Little_Unicorn)



I took in a deep breath of the warm spring air, a little sharper now that the sun had set, but still fragrant with the aroma of new life.

“There’s nothing so uplifting as seeing a happy young couple united in matrimony,” I remarked as Holmes and I walked down the drive arm in arm. “It fills the heart with hope.”

Holmes gave me a queer look out of the corner of his eye. “You’ve become maudlin, my dear Watson,” he admonished, though I could tell that wasn’t really what was bothering him.

All through the evening, as I drifted on and off the dance floor, I had seen Holmes watching me, his brow knitted in troubled thought as it was now. He had remained on the sidelines, as far as I noticed, once or twice he had been drawn into conversation when I happened to glance his way, but for the most part he had spent the evening rather stoically. However, I had not allowed his mood - not a surprising one under the circumstances - to dampen my spirits.

“It was a beautiful wedding,” I insisted, though I longed to say more - but that would have to wait until we were safely ensconced in Baker Street.

Holmes shrugged his shoulders carelessly. “Perhaps it was.” He glanced over at me and added upon seeing my expression, “I heartily congratulate the happy couple, but you know I am not such a sociable fellow.”

I gave him a look that utterly failed to conceal my fondness for the unsociable ascetic man beside me. “I know. Nor am I,” I reminded him. “But I can still enjoy a wedding.”

He waved it off, a fond smile of his own teasing at those wry, thin lips. But as we made our way down to the nearest thoroughfare to catch a cab home, his smile faded and there came into his eyes a faraway look that betrayed deep contemplation.

We were quiet all the way home until we stepped into the darkened flat; Mrs. Hudson had long since retired to bed. As Holmes stooped over to light the gas, I struggled to find the right words.

“You know,” I said at last, when he had straightened his long, limber back - the faint gleam of the lamp light outlined his figure with a golden glow - “there’s nothing to worry about. It was just dancing, nothing more. I’m not going to run off with anyone” - I hesitated, remembering my ill-fated marriage - “not again.”

Holmes slowly turned to face me. He reached out and took my hands in his own. “I know,” he assured me. His expression turned mischievous. “I should hope you have no intention of marrying any of your charming young suitors; you are not so young any more.”

I glared at him, but I didn’t really mean it. There was still that look in his eyes, contemplative, perhaps a little uncertain.

Abruptly, as though he had come to a decision, he relinquished my hands and went to the new phonograph of all things. He didn’t take long to choose a record to set upon the table, and soon the quiet night air was full of soft, swirling music. For a moment, I wondered whether we should not be more careful not to disturb our long suffering landlady, and then Holmes had taken my hand and slipped his other arm around my waist, drawing me close - perhaps a little more so than I had dared with my fair dance partners earlier in the evening.

My feet followed him without any conscious thought. I stumbled a little, accustomed to leading rather than being led, but he moved with such self-assured grace that it would have been difficult not to fall into step. We twirled and swayed across the sitting room, flitting with ease between the furniture and clutter. If I took a false step, which I am afraid was not so unlikely, there was Holmes’s arm, sure and strong around my waist to steady me and bring me closer still.

As we found a clearer patch of floor, Holmes was so bold as to spin me around so for a moment I stood enveloped in his arms, my back pressed against his chest, and then he spun me back around. He gave me but a moment to regain my footing. And then, as the piece came to an end, he tightened his grip on my hand, moved his arm up my back, and leaned forward to dip me toward the ground, our faces nearly touching. I had not the balance to dare bring him in for a kiss, but the thought flashed across my mind.

The music stopped and very slowly he returned me upright. For a moment we merely stood there, holding each other, our chests heaving. He was a sight to behold in the flickering gaslight, tall and elegant in his dark evening wear; the very picture of a gentleman and his eyes alight with something more.

“I had no idea you were such a dancer,” I said, breathless.

His keen features lit up with pleasure at the compliment, as sensitive as any lady, though he tried to appear unaffected.

“Truly, all womankind has been sorely deprived,” I insisted as the next piece began to play.

“My dear Watson, you overestimate my qualities as a partner.”

I did not deign to answer that. Instead I said, “And here I thought you didn’t like dancing.”

“I don’t like watching you dance with all of your charming young suitors while I’m forced to stand on the sidelines, allowed to dance with anyone but the man whose company I actually desire.” With that he reached out and took my hands in his own once more, drawing me closer. He had spoken such words casually, as though it were nothing, but I knew him well enough to see the depths of feeling that lay behind them.

This piece was less lively than the first. Holmes merely wrapped his arms around my waist and I draped mine over his neck and we swayed and shifted approximately in time with the music - he tended closer to tempo than I. He watched me intently, his gaze at once that of the brilliant reasoner examining me as though I held the answer to some mystery, and the dreamer lost in a world of our own, and it held some things which could not be accounted for by either; passion and tenderness as though we might as well have been alone in the world for all that he could see. His bright silver eyes seemed to sparkle.

I answered in the only way I could; I leaned in and kissed him on the lips, soft and gentle, but with a lick of fire.

When I pulled away, he was smiling, looking rather pleased with himself, and I confess, I likely looked the same. I drew even closer to lean my head against his shoulder and he held me in his warm embrace as we swayed with the low, twinkling melody.


End file.
